by Sam Barone
“They’re good men,” Eskkar answered, trying to understand the meaning behind Yavtar’s words. “And they’re well trained. Perhaps that is the difference.”
“Yes, perhaps. But you trained them, didn’t you, and gave them a home and a clan. That’s why I think you’ll win at Akkad, Captain, no matter what the odds. And that’s why I want to fight with you. I think I want to be part of your victory. And it would be nice to have a clan of my own, for when I get too old to ride the river.”
Eskkar considered the man’s words for a moment. Yavtar didn’t look much older than himself, so the sailor could be sailing the Tigris for many more years. Still, every man wanted a home somewhere, a place of safety to raise his family and spend his declining years. “I welcome you to the fight, Yavtar,” Eskkar said, using what he thought of as his formal voice, “the Hawk Clan always needs good men.”
“Thank you, Lord Eskkar.” He moved back toward the stern. “Keep rowing, men. We don’t want to lose any time.”
True to his word, before three hours had passed, Yavtar started guiding the boat closer to the eastern bank. He ordered the pace slackened, and the other boats soon caught up with them, staying just far enough apart to avoid a collision.
Eskkar wondered how Yavtar could be certain of their location.
The deeper darkness of the land looked the same to him, even with the moon up. Moments later, Yavtar angled the boat toward the riverbank.
Eskkar still couldn’t see anything, and Yavtar’s mate had caught the jetty before Eskkar even saw it. Both Yavtar and the crewman slipped over the side into the river, ropes in their hands, and lashed the craft tightly to the jetty.
The jetty had room for only the one vessel; two small boats, no doubt belonging to Rebba, occupied the remaining space. So the other craft moved carefully alongside, until men could push them ashore, struggling in the current to move the now-clumsy boats as far up onto the bank as possible. The moment each ship came to rest, men with their gear climbed carefully over the side and started moving inshore, until every man had landed. Grond slipped away first, and had already moved inland. For a big man, he could move without a sound when need be. All the men from Eskkar’s boat followed, armed only with their swords, and fading into the darkness, to make sure no one lurked in ambush.
Eskkar swore at the noise they made. The men stumbled about in the dark. He hoped the river muffled the sounds, and maybe the din wouldn’t be heard above the normal bubbling of the flowing water. At last everyone stood on firm ground once again, though now it felt strange enough to Eskkar’s shaky legs.
The boat crews passed out the bows, all bundled together, and then handed out the jars containing the bowstrings. Eskkar cursed again as the sound echoed out over the river. He felt certain they could be heard all the way to Akkad.
At last all the weapons had landed. The soldiers spread out, all the men stringing their bows and readying their arrows and swords. By then Grond returned.
“Captain, nothing suspicious. I went as close as I dared. Any closer and I would have awakened the dogs. But there was nothing.”
“No sentries, no guards, no horses?”
“No, no horses except the three or four that Rebba would have in his corral.”
“Well, we’ll have to chance it. I’ll go ahead and see what . . .”
“No, Captain,” Grond interrupted. “I’ve thought about this. Let’s send Alexar, and have him approach as if he came from Akkad. If all’s well, he can report back to us. If not, we can still use the boats.”
Eskkar bit his lip. Grond spoke the truth. Eskkar’s old instincts made him want to rush ahead, but Grond and the others wouldn’t let him go, and there was no sense arguing over it.
“I’m ready to go, Captain,” Alexar whispered. He had seen Grond come back and stepped over to join them. “I’ll know if there’s anything wrong. I’ll bring Bantor back with me.”
“You know about the dogs?” Eskkar asked. “The dogs will start barking as soon as they hear you.”
“Yes. It can’t be helped,” Alexar answered. “But they’d waken anyway, so we might as well get it over with. The sound won’t carry to the next farmhouse.”
“Be careful,” Eskkar said, putting his hand on Alexar’s arm. The moment the words left his mouth he swore at himself for wasting his breath; no one needed any orders to take care. He watched them disappear into the darkness, Grond leading the way, to show Alexar the location of the road and the farmhouse.
Clenching his fist at the inaction, Eskkar moved forward, until he could make out the cluster of buildings that made up Rebba’s farmstead.
Moments later, the dogs began barking. The noise went on and on, for what seemed like far too long, before a light appeared in the window of the main house. But the glow went out almost immediately, and the dogs stopped their challenge. After what seemed like a lifetime, he saw two men looming in the darkness, heading toward the jetty.
Still worried about an ambush, Eskkar squinted against the darkness, looking for any other movement, his hand resting on his sword hilt. Relief flooded over him when he heard a familiar voice call out. Then Bantor rushed the last few steps and wrapped his arms around Eskkar, hugging him tight and pounding on his back.
“Thank the gods, Captain, but I’m glad to see you. Let’s move up to the house.”
With Alexar and Bantor leading the way, Eskkar gave the orders and started the soldiers moving toward the farmhouse. They went in single file, to leave as little trace of their passing as possible. The dogs barked a few more times, nervous at the approach of so many men. Eskkar heard voices, no doubt Rebba’s farmers, chiding the watchdogs to keep silent, and keeping them away from the soldiers’ approach.
Bantor guided his captain and Grond to the main house, while Alexar led the rest to another building. When the door opened, Eskkar saw that a small lamp burned. Heavy leather strips covered the windows and prevented the light from showing.
Rebba stood there, waiting. He had already sent the rest of his family to the other house. Inside, Rebba motioned them to the benches at the big table, lighting a second lamp, a larger one that provided plenty of light, though it smoked quite a bit. Rebba sat at one end, while Eskkar sat at the other. By then Mitrac, Alexar, and Klexor had joined them and, to Eskkar’s surprise, Yavtar. The sailor had followed silently behind the soldiers. Eskkar noticed that Yavtar had laced sandals on his usually bare feet, and carried a short sword at his waist.
“Is Trella all right?” Eskkar had to know, though he dreaded what he might hear.
“She’s alive, a prisoner in your house,” Rebba answered.
Eskkar felt relief wash over him. He still had time to save her.
“How many men have you brought, Lord Eskkar?”
Rebba’s voice sounded frail, but the urgency of his question took Eskkar’s mind off Trella.
One of Rebba’s daughters came into the house, carrying a fresh jug of water. She began pouring it, looking nervously about the table, as the men eased themselves down, shoulder to shoulder, around the table.
“Thirty-nine, no, forty now, counting me, Noble Rebba,” Eskkar answered. He saw the looks of disappointment on Rebba and Bantor’s faces.
“We came by riverboat, and it would have taken us another three or four days to march here with more men.”
Rebba shook his head. “You don’t have enough soldiers. There are many men inside Akkad who now follow Korthac.” He saw the question on Eskkar’s face. “Ah, yes. You don’t know the man. He came less than a week after you left for Dilgarth.” He looked at Bantor for a moment. “Perhaps we should start when you left Akkad.”
Eskkar held his tongue as much as possible, resisting the urge to interrupt with questions. The telling of the events took nearly an hour, with Rebba speaking of what had happened in the city, and then Bantor describing the ambush on the road. Rebba finished with what had happened since.
“So now,” Rebba said as he wound up his tale, “the forty or so soldie
rs still alive are used as slaves, and kept under guard at the old barracks. Korthac’s men, and now he has close to two hundred of them, terrorize the villagers. There have been many rapes and much looting. Any that resist are killed horribly in the marketplace. All the merchants and craftsmen must pay a tax just to stay alive and remain in business.” He looked across the flickering lamp at Eskkar. “You must gather more men, then find a way to drive them out.”
“I intend to do that, Rebba,” Eskkar said. “But you haven’t seen Trella?”
“No, but she is in her room, with Annok-sur, giving birth.” Rebba saw the look on Eskkar’s face and realized he had left something out. “Lady Trella went into labor this afternoon. I don’t know how . . .”
“Trella is well, you say?”
“Yes, that’s what I heard today,” Rebba replied. “But we hear only rumors from the servants. Trella and Annok-sur are confined to the upper rooms of your home. Korthac uses the outer room during the day, but sleeps downstairs at night. He has taken a few young boys and girls as bedmates, they say.”
“I don’t care who he sleeps with,” Eskkar said, his hands clenching into fists. “He’ll be dead as soon as I get my hands on his throat.”
“It won’t be easy, Eskkar.” Rebba shook his head. “The gates are heavily guarded and the walls are patrolled day and night, as much to keep the people in as intruders out.”
Bantor rapped his fist on the table. “We just need to get inside, Captain. Ariamus’s men spend their nights in the alehouses, drinking their fill. We’ll kill them easy enough. My men have practiced each day with bow and sword.”
“You said Gatus is in hiding with Tammuz?”
“Yes. Rebba’s men found him there two days ago,” Bantor said. “Gatus sent three men out here as soon as he learned we were here.”
“What else did he say?” Eskkar knew Gatus well enough.
“Two days ago, he sent word that Tammuz has been watching the sentries. Gatus says that Butcher’s Lane is the way in. He’ll help us, if we send word.”
Eskkar smiled at that. Butcher’s Lane was where, during the siege, the Alur Meriki had almost carried the wall in a night attack. He’d considered using the same location to scale the wall on the journey downriver. But there was no time to send word. They could be discovered at any moment.
He counted the men he had at his command. “So we have your twenty men, Bantor, and my thirty-nine. That gives us . . .”
“Sixty-two men, Captain,” Yavtar broke in before Eskkar could complete the sum in his head. “That includes me, and two of my boatmen, willing to gamble their miserable lives for a fistful of gold. The rest will stay with the boats, in case we need them. I told you I intend to fight with you. I know how to swing a sword.”
“I’m sure you do, Yavtar,” Eskkar said, then he stopped for a moment.
He had been struggling with ideas about how to get into Akkad, how to climb the wall. He doubted he could get sixty men inside without alerting Korthac’s sentries, no matter how many throats they slit in the darkness.
Yavtar’s presence suggested another, better way.
“Then, Yavtar, I have a task for you, if you’re willing. A dangerous task.” He looked around the table. “Here’s what I want you to do.”
He explained his plan, his men leaning closer, intent on every word.
Eskkar had thought about little else most of the day, and now Bantor and Rebba had supplied the final bits of information he needed. Yavtar’s volunteering to join the battle provided yet another option.
When Eskkar finished, his commanders began to fill in their parts.
They had all fought together before, working on defenses during the siege, and planning attacks on barbarians and bandits. They knew what to do and what to suggest to each other.
Eskkar said little while they spoke, and Bantor, Alexar, and Mitrac all made their suggestions and asked their questions. The whole process didn’t take long. The subcommanders knew how to prepare their men. In less than an hour, they were all ready.
Rebba listened without speaking during the process. Now he shook his head as they began to get up from the table. “You really think this plan will work? Why don’t you wait until tomorrow night? That way we can get some help from Gatus and others inside the city who are willing to fight.”
Bantor answered even before Eskkar could speak. “No. Eskkar is right. We must go now. Anything can happen in a day. We might be discovered here, or word might reach Korthac that Eskkar is on the way. If they suspect we’re here . . . no, we must attack tonight.”
“It will work, Rebba,” Klexor added. “Those men are bandits, and they’re not even from the same clan. Half of them will run at the first sign of trouble.”
“Even if half do run,” Rebba answered, “you’ll still be outnumbered. And Korthac’s men are trained fighters, not bandits. They won’t run. If we wait another day or two, we can get many of the citizens to join with us.”
“We’ll be discovered,” Bantor said, his fist again striking the table. “Besides, we don’t need them. We just have to get over the walls, and when we do, I will put my sword in Ariamus’s guts and watch him die for what he did to my men.”
Eskkar stared at his subcommander, surprised at Bantor’s intensity.
He remembered the gossip about Ariamus and Annok-sur; he’d forgotten about it until now. Eskkar realized the anger that must still burn inside the man’s heart.
“At least keep your forces together, Eskkar,” Rebba pleaded. “Splitting them up will . . .”
“No, Rebba. What’s important is to get inside Akkad.” Eskkar spoke with certainty. “If we stay together, and can’t get in, then we’ve failed. This way, even if only half of us succeed, we can rouse the city. Besides, you say that Korthac’s men are scattered all over Akkad. The more places we attack, the greater their confusion.”
And gives me the best chance to rescue Trella. Eskkar had made that decision on the river, too. If he could get her out safely, he didn’t care if the rest of the attack failed. The people of Akkad could live with the demon Korthac for all he cared.
Silence settled over the table. Either none of Eskkar’s commanders found fault with his plan, or they just wanted to get on with the fight.
“Then I will go with you,” Rebba said, the sound of resignation in his voice. “No matter what happens, I’m committed. If you fail, I will be killed and my estates confiscated. So I’ll walk the streets, to rally the people behind you, even as you fight Korthac’s soldiers. The people will recognize me, and many will heed my words, when I tell them Eskkar has returned to free them.”
Eskkar understood Rebba’s situation. If Eskkar failed, Korthac would learn of Rebba’s involvement. They would all risk their lives tonight. He looked about the table, but no one said anything further.
“Tell your men to kill the Egyptian soldiers first,” Eskkar said, picking his words carefully. “The rest of the rabble will break. Make sure our soldiers shout their heads off. Let your battle cry be ‘Let None Escape.’ That will strike fear into the hearts of these bandits.”
“We need another one,” Klexor offered. “ ‘Eskkar has returned.’ I think that will rouse the people.”
Eskkar nodded his approval. “Good. Two battle cries will make us sound even stronger.”
The night was slipping by, and the time for words had passed. “Then let us begin. We still have things to prepare, and I don’t want our enemies enjoying too much sleep before we awaken them.”
Chapter 21
Korthac woke a few hours after he’d finished taking his pleasure with the young girl, who still lay in a heap on the floor, her legs streaked with blood. He’d told her not to move, and enjoyed the satisfaction of seeing she’d learned obedience.
Too young for the love act, she had sobbed at the pain. He’d enjoyed that, too, watching the fright in her eyes that terrorized her as much as the suffering. For the last four nights he’d taken a fresh young bedmate, alternating betwee
n sexes, enjoying at last the opportunity to satisfy himself without restraint. Not that Korthac ever felt driven by such basic needs, as most men were. He’d spent months in the desert without companionship of any kind, and considered it only a minor inconvenience. Nevertheless, now that he had all of Akkad at his feet and eager to please him, he intended to make up for being deprived.
When he grew bored with the young children of the nobles and richer traders, he would start with their daughters and wives, keeping a half-dozen or so on hand as concubines until they became pregnant. When that happened, he would send them home to their families and watch their faces as they reared his children. Korthac determined to fill the city with his offspring, so that, in the years to come, everyone could see the power of his conquest.
Tonight’s diversion had been less than satisfying. The room he’d taken on the lower floor of Eskkar’s house two days ago had no door, just a heavy curtain for privacy. In another day or so, he would move into the upper rooms and banish Trella to this humble chamber. She would sleep on the floor, sharing a blanket with her servant Annok-sur. After a few days, Trella would have the blanket for herself; Korthac planned to hand over Annok-sur to his men before putting her to the torture.
He had let Trella keep her quarters, more as a gesture to the people than out of any concern for her comfort. Korthac knew that many in Akkad felt compassion for Trella. His men controlled the city, but there was no reason to give its inhabitants something else to complain about, at least not for another few days.
Though tonight, Korthac felt tempted to order Trella out. Earlier in the day, he’d visited her again, and decided her eyes still showed traces of disrespect. He’d slapped her hard a few times, until real pain showed in her face and blood flowed from her mouth. When she assumed a properly servile manner, he ran his finger through her hair, enjoying the fear that she could no longer conceal. On her knees and in tears, she’d scarcely crawled back to her room when her labor began.
